We All Scream

Twice today I was promised ice cream; twice today I arrived to find the ice cream gone.

Call it customer service. Call it tact. Call it truth in advertising. Call it empathy. By whatever name, it matters. If you promise ice cream, and ice cream you have not, you owe apologies, or at the very least, some expression more contrite than a mistakes-were-made shrug.

Damn lawyers. I want ice cream. Failing that, I want some sympathy from those who were to supply it. I don't want to be told I should have come at 6, when the signs all said there would be ice cream until 9. I don't want to joke about contract doctrine. I just want some acknowledgement of my basic dignity as an ice-cream loving individual.

What sticks in my craw is that the whole point of the one ice cream social was to show that the hosts actually cared about us guests; it was supposed to be a friendly expression of support and gratitude. Mocking your guests for not showing up earlier is not cool in my book.

2 Corinthians 9:6, I say to you, especially if I have any say in the matter.

Update (23 April): apology accepted.